Sick Day Schedule
by NyxenEclipse
Summary: Oobleck doesn't know how to take a sick day. Port teaches him These are not in any particular order, and feature Oobleck and Port at different stages of a relationship. Not all chapters are technically sick fics, but they're close enough.
1. Flu

It is a well known fact at Beacon Academy that Peter likes to walk with Barty to breakfast.

On this particular day, when Peter knocks on Barty's door, there is no answer within a nanosecond. "Barty?" Peter calls. "Barty, are you in there?"

There's a small scuffling sound before the door opens slowly. Barty's head pokes out. His hair is messy; not its normal messy, but the toss- and- turn- all- night kind of messy. His eyes are dull and skin pale.

"Peter?" he wheezes.

"Barty? Whatever happened to you?" Peter asks incredulously.

"Nothing. I'm fine." then he starts coughing.

Peter wraps a steadying hand around him. Then his other hand goes straight to Barty's forehead. "Barty, you're burning up!"

"We should go to breakfast." Barty says breathily.

"No! Barty, you're going straight back to bed. You can barely keep your eyes open." Peter says firmly.

"No. I have classes." Barty protests. Peter leads him back to bed easily. Barty isn't strong enough to put up much of a fight.

"There you go." says Peter. "I'll go get you some breakfast and arrange covers for your lessons."

"Peter, you have classes too." Barty reminds.

"Not many. Enough to take good care of you." says Peter jollily.

"Peter." Barty sighs, playing with the corner of the blanket.

"Barty." Peter returns. Barty coughs again. "Barty, really. Lie down and get comfortable. As I keep telling you, you can't teach like this." Peter tells him. "I'll be gone only a moment." Then he disapears out the door. The extravagant professor arranges for Barty's classes to be covered and brings him a little fruit bowl and coffee. However, he finds Barty face down on the floor next to the bed. Peter puts the tray down and rushes to his side. "Barty! Barty?" he gently shook the green- haired man by the shoulder. Barty moaned and curled against Peter's knee. "What happened?" Peter asks.

"The room was spinning." Barty moans.

"Did you try to get up?" Peter asks.

"N_o_." Barty groans.

"Alright." Peter very carefully pulls Barty onto the bed. He starts coughing again. Peter rubs his back before tucking him in. "Maybe water would be better." he fills up a glass of water from the tap in the bathroom. Then he presses it into Barty's shaky hands.

"Carefull, or you'll choke." Peter warns.

"It's not coffee." Barty grumbles.

"Coffee wouldn't be very good for you now. Besides, you have more than enough energy to fight of this sickness withot it." says Peter.

"Your voice is to loud."

"Aha. See, you're getting the hang of it now!" Peter laughs.

"Peter, what are you talking about it?"

"Sick days. You get to lie around in bed, be waited on hand and foot and complain about everything." Peter instructs.

"Sounds awful." Barty murmurs.

Peter pats his shoulder. "You'll soon learn."

"Never done this before." Barty mumbled tiredly.

"Never done what?"

"Lie in bed all day."

"Really?"

"I stayed at home when I was to ill to go to school, yes, but I put together some rudimentery work."

Peter strokes the green hair softly. "Where on earth did you get this from, anyway?"

Barty shrugs. "Felt bad all week. Just got worse yesterday."

"Oh, Barty. You should've said something." Peter sighs.

"I'm a grown man, Peter. A professional _huntsman_ to boot. And what kind of example would it set to the students if one of their teachers took days of for every little cold."

"Barty, it's more than a _little _cold. _Oh_! Maybe you caught what Glynda had a few weeks ago. Ozpin took care of her, remember. He said she had a high fever and a bad cough."

And a cough bursts out of Barty's throat. "This is starting to hurt." he closes his his eyes, burrowing into the bed and resting his head on Peter's lap.

"Get some sleep, Barty. And then get better."


	2. Concussion

Barty saw team RWBY group together. Weiss used her dust to encase them all in ice. Barty nodded proudly before grabbing Zwei and shielding the little dog with his body. Then everything went black.

The next thing Barty knew he was lying in the rubble of the train wreck. His head was throbbing and he felt woozy. He could see his students fighting hard. They were strong, but they were outnumbered by far to many. Overhead, there came the sounds of an airship. Team JNPR entered the playing field, followed shortly by team CFVY. And _Peter_.

Peter.

His Peter.

Barty's best friend. There was no one on earth Barty was closer to than Peter. At his arrival, Barty knew that everything was going to be okay. He pulled himself to his feet, standing straight and tall. Peter was next to him. And they fought together, like they always did.

At the end of the battle, the adrenaline began to wear of and he began to feel the wound again. His vision was slightly blurry and he was so tired. He followed Peter into the airship and slid onto the seat. The students were clearly tired too, but they were full of excitement and pride. Neither Glynda nor Peter seemed fazed at all.

When they return to Beacon, Peter followed Barty up to his rooms. Peter was worried about Barty; the normally hyper-active man was still and pale. His eyes were fuzzy and unfocused. Peter knew he was incapacitated for the first part of the battle. And suddenly Barty pitched forward. Peter caught him and set him down on the threadbare sofa.

"P'ter?" Barty moaned. "M' head hurts."

"Alright, Barty. When then train crashed, did you hit your head?" Peter asked.

"Maybe, don't remember." Barty groaned. His hand went to the back of his head.

"Barty, I need you to sit up for me." Peter said softy.

Barty moaned again. "Please, Barty." Peter hoisted him up by his shoulders. Barty gasped and leant forward before vomiting onto the floor. Peter rubbed his back before looking at the back of his head. There was definately a bruise developing, but no blood had been drawn.

"You're lucky. I think its only a mild concussion. A few days' rest and you'll be whizzing round Beacon in no time. Your aura will kick in and you'll even be able to avoid the doctors. I know how much you hate them." Peter joked.

Barty whimpered and lent his head on Peter's shoulder. Peter sighed. "Let's get you to bed." He helped Barty into his bedroom, into his pyjamas and tucked him in bed.

Peter was turning the light of and preparing to leave when Barty called out to him. "Peter? _Stay_?"

Peter smiled slightly and sat down next to Barty. Barty fell asleep in Peter's arms, and Peter fell asleep with Barty in his arms.


	3. Glasses

Peter entered the apartment he shared with Barty. A whimper was what greeted him as he came in. "Barty?"

Another whimper.

"Barty, are you alright?"

Barty was sat on the floor by the sofa, with his head tucked into his had his hands clasped his eyes. He looked pitiful.

"Peter? I can't find my glasses."

Peter sat down next to him and wrapped him in an embrace. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find my glasses." Barty repeated, deperation creeping into his tone.

Peter was terrified by Barty's behaviour. There was no way he was _this _upset over missing glasses. He hadn't even looked at Peter. "It's alright. We'll find them." Peter soothed.

Barty groaned. "No! You don't understand; I _need _ 're reflective. They block out the light." he paused as he leant into Peter. "I'm hypersensitive, Peter. Light's to bright for me. So, I wear the glasses."

Peter's hand ran itself through Barty's messy hair. "And now you can't find them." He then took off his big silk tie. Gently, he wrapped it around Barty's eyes. Tying it, he asked, "Is that better?"

Barty nodded. "Much. Thank you."

"Where did you last see them?"

Barty groaned again, this time in frustration. "I put them on my desk, in the most obvious, visible place possible, left the classroom for 5 minutes and when I got back, they were gone. I spent half an hour looking for them. I only came back here because I couldn't see anymore."

A quick kiss on his cheek from Peter silenced Barty's nervous babble. "Stay here and rest: I'll go and look for your glasses."

Peter pulled them both up, deposited Barty in bed and put an audiobook on before begining his hunt.

Peter scoured Barty's classroom from top to bottom. It was getting late and he still hadn't found the glasses. Eventually he had to give up and go to bed. Barty had already fallen asleep when he got back. Peter sighed, undoing the blindfold and snuggling up with his love.

Barty's cry woke Peter up the next morning. The green haired man was hunched over, clutching his eyes. Peter quickly retied the blindfold.

"I'm sorry, Barty. I couldn't find your glasses."

Barty groaned, but snuggled into Peter again. "I can't teach like this."

Peter gave him a little more cuddling than normal. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Do you want to go down for breakfast?" Peter asked softly.

Barty shook his head. "I can't see." his voice went quiet. "I don't want to face them like this." Shame coloured the man's voice. Peter winced at it.

"Its ok. You don't have to. I'll bring something up for you." Peter offered.

Barty just nodded in defeat.

Several of the teachers looked up in surprise when Peter came in alone. He snagged a chair next to Glynda and slid into it. "Where's Barty?" she asked.

"He's not feeling well. He won't be able to teach today."

There were many murmurings of sympathy and well wishes. Peter accepted them with neutral grace. After breakfast, he followed Ozpin into his office.

"This is about Barty?" The headmaster stated.

Peter nodded. "His glasses have gone missing and he can't see without them."

Ozpin sighed. "Those glasses are very hard to make, to fit Barty's needs. Getting another pair would be very difficult."

A scowl crossed Peter's features. "But it's not like Barty to simply _lose_ something so important."

Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "You think a student took them as a joke?"

Peter nodded. "The students don't know how important they are."

Little did Peter know how right he was. It was his last class before lunch, where he could escape back to Barty.

He was giving the class a lecture on finding the weaknesses of different Grimm, when he noticed team CRDL laughing at something. He caught snippets of the conversation.

"He's not even shown up today- what an idiot!"

"You'd think he couldn't live without these things."

That was when Peter caught a glimpse of something in Cardin Winchester's hand. _Barty's glasses. _Something in Peter snapped. "Look for beaks in the armor of- _you stupid boy_!"

"Uh, professor?" Weiss spoke up.

But, Peter was striding towards Cardin with murder in his eyes. "_How dare you make a mockery of a person's conditions, that you know NOTHING of! How dare you take something that isn't yours without thinking about the CONSEQUENCES! How dare you take enjoyment from someone else's PAIN! YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS OPPORTUNITY WHEN YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A HUNTSMAN IS! KIND! BRAVE! HONOURABLE! YOU HAVE SHOW NONE OF THIS! GIVE ME THOSE GLASSES GET OUT OF MY CLASSROOM AND DON'T COME BACK!"_

Cardin gulped, blood freezing in his veins. With a shaking hand, he pushed the glasses across the desk. As soon as Peter took hold of them, Cardin was out of the door, his team trailing after him.

"Class dismissed."

The hard edge of his voice sent all the students out of the room a full 21 minutes early. Peter clutched the glasses, breathing deeply to let go of all the rage. When he thought he was calm enough, he made his way back to Barty.

When he got there, Barty was sat in bed, his whole body vibrating. A plate of his breakfast, half eaten, sat on the bedside table. A small table by the window had been knocked over.

"Barty, how're you feeling?

Barty froze and tensed at the sound of Peter's voice. "Peter? I'm _bored_. I need something to do."

Peter sat down and pulled Barty into a cuddle. "You haven't eaten much."

Barty nuzzled his shoulder. "Appetite always goes down when I'm like this. Besides, it's hard to eat without seeing."

Peter smiled into Barty's hair and slowly undid the blindfold. Barty groaned as the light stung his eyes. Peter gently slotted the glasses into their proper place.

Barty gasped as he felt them slide on. Turning to Peter, he slowly opened his eyes. He blinked several times before squinting at Peter's face.

"You found them."

Peter kissed Barty's nose. "Cardin Winchester took them. I daresay he's going to suffer greatly for a very long time."

Barty chuckled. "My hero." he murmured adoringly, going in for a full kiss.


	4. Fever

Barty awoke to blurriness. He couldn't think properly and it was so _hot_. Suffocatingly hot. He lay in bed for a unknown period of time. His head was fuzzy and was throbbing slightly. One thought that managed to get through was the realisation that he was ill. The automatic follow up to that was Peter. He needed to go to Peter.

However, as hot as it was under the covers, it was freezing outside it. Barty staggered up and grabbed the blanket at the end of the bed and draped it around himself. Then he wobbled to the door, gabbing hold of anything in reach to keep himself upright. The hallway swam in his vision. He barely managed the 3 minute walk from his rooms to Peter's. When he got there, he was panting and swaeting like he'd just come out of battle.

He caught himself on Peter's door and held himself there, just to get his breath back. He felt the world tilt again. In desperation he started pounding on the door as hard as he could- which wasn't very hard. Suddenly the door opened. Without anything to lean on, he immediately fell forward.

Peter awoke to noise. There was a thumping sound coming fro his door. Huffing, he dragged himself out of bed and opened the door. Instantly, his arms were full of... Barty? Peter's brain snapped awake. Barty! The green haired man groaned into Peter's shoulder. "Peter?" he croaked, "I think I'm ill." Peter shook his head fondly, feeling the heat radiating from him.

Peter dragged Barty into his room, kicking the door shut. With some difficulty, given Barty was a full 2 feet taller than him and tangled in a blanket, Peter lead him into his room and set him down on he bed. "Wait here." Peter commanded.

Barty moaned something; probably sarcastic, but it was lost on Peter. The Grimm Studies professor took a thermometer from the bathroom and returned to Barty's side. "Here." he poked the plastic at Barty's mouth. The history teacher smiled groggily and took it. Peter busied himself with tucking Barty in under the covers. Barty groaned and tried to roll out. "To hot."

Peter sighed. He took the covers off again. Barty started shivering.

"Now you're cold." Peter pointed out. "You need the covers."

Barty made a vague flapping motion with his hand at the blanket pooling around his knees. With one hand Peter pulled the blanket around Barty's shoulders, and with the other, he plucked the thermometer from Barty's mouth. "This is a decent fever."

Barty shrugged. He blinked and Peter was gone. He sat up and looked around. Peter was emerging from the bathroom. He had a glass of water in one hand and a little box in the other. Peter sat down next to him and handed him two pills out of the box. "Drink this." Peter lifted the glass to Barty's lips and allowed him to sip it. By the time he finished, Barty was ready to just sleep.

"Go to sleep, Barty." Peter murmured.

Barty just snuggled into Peter's side. Peter chuckled and settled down to sleep. "We'll give you more medicine tomorrow, keep your fever down."

Barty groaned. "_Peter_, _sleep_."

With Barty's warmth seeping into him, Peter went to sleep, content.


	5. Stomach flu

Barty and Peter sit in their living room, sharing a plate of tea and biscuits. Or at least, Peter is. Barty just sips his tea slowly, looking pale and worn. Peter lets his clear discomfort slide for several minutes, but it doesn't improve.

"Barty, are you feeling alright?" He asked.

Barty looks up at him sluggishly. "I'm fine, Peter."

Peter gives him a long hard look.

"Really, I'm fine."

Peter places his hand on Barty's forehead. "You feel clammy." he pulls Barty up and takes him into their bedroom. "Get some sleep, Barty." Barty smiles wearily and allows himself to be dragged. Peter scrutinises him as he changes slowly into his pyjamas. Barty just smiles wanly at him as he slides under the covers. Peter snuggles up against him, wrapping his arms around his coffee loving lover.

Its the middle of the night when Peter wakes up. His arms are empty and he can't feel Barty. He hears hurried footsteps padding away. The bluriness in his eyes clears and he just catches Barty rushing into the bathroom. Peter gets up and follows him. When he hears retching, he races the rest of the way.

Barty's curled around the toilet, gasping for breath in the middle of violent heaves. Peter immediately gets down next to him; holding his forehead and rubbing his back. Barty moans as he rests his head on the seat.

"Don't feel good." he whimpers.

Peter kisses the back of his neck. "I know you don't."

Barty leans back over the toilet and retches again. Peter hums in sympathy. Eventually Barty throws up everything in his stomach and he's reduced to dry heaving.

Peter pulls him away from the toilet and fills a cup with water. Barty oves his head away from it but Peter persists. He coaxs Barty into drinking at least a quarter of it. When that was accomplished, Barty slumped against Peter.

"M' tired." he mumbled.

Peter ran a hand over Barty's forehead. "I know you are." He pulled Barty to his feet and nearly drags him back to bed. "Come on Barty. You have to help a little."

Barty struggles to get his feet under him and his legs working. He flops gratefully back into bed. Peter sets a bucket down by the side of the bed and cuddles up to Barty.

"Thank you." Barty slurs as sleep takes him.

"Feel better soon." Peter murmurs.


	6. Nightmares

Peter wakes suddenly. He lies in the darkness for a moment, unsure of what had pulled him out of sleep. Then he realises.

Barty lets out another garbled cry, flailing away from unseen attackers. His face is lined with pain and he's shuddering violently in his sleep. Peter sits up quickly and takes hold of Barty's hands to keep them from scratching himself. One of Peter's silk covered arms wraps around Barty's shoulders and holds him close.

"Barty, sh, sh," Peter soothes. "Its alright."

Barty wrenches himself awake with a strangled scream. He shoots upwards straight into Peter's arms. Peter holds the shaking form of his partner close. "Sh, sh. You're safe here. You're safe here." he whispers into Barty's ear.

Peter's mustache tickles Barty's skin as he sobs and whimpers into Peter's shoulder. His hands clutch tightly- too tightly- at Peter's forarms to stop himself from clawing his own to ribbons.

But Peter doesn't care. He understands. This isn't the first time this has happened. This isn't the first time Peter's had to comfort an inconsolable Barty after a bad dream.

"He took my feathers. Peter, he took my freathers." Barty moans, completely distraught.

Peter presses a kiss to Barty's head. "I know."

Barty sobs again.

"You're safe," Peter repeats, "No one's going to hurt you."

"He took everything from me." Barty hisses, his voice laced with bitterness.

Peter recognises the dark void Barty is falling into. "No, he didn't." He rolls Barty's sleeves up and traces the scars left by the brutal removal of Barty's feathers. "I'm right here. I'm right here and I won't leave you."

Peter knows he's repeating himself but it helps comfort Barty. It keeps his focus and keeps his head above the water.

Not many people know that Barty was actually a Faunas. A hummingbird faunas, to be precise. But he'd had his feathers completely ripped out as a child. He kept his arms covered as to hide the scars.

It makes Peter's heart ache painfully to see how Barty still suffered. Just the agonising memories of the event reduces Barty to this. It brought such a strong, incredible man to his knees. But it was also the loss of identity. Barty wasn't sure if he was a faunas or not anymore. The identity confusion destroyed him.

Barty looks up at Peter with red rimmed eyes that were thankfully dry. "Peter?" he whispers. "I love you."

Peter smiles down at him softly. "I love you to."

Peter settles down in the bed, still with Barty in his arms.


	7. Battle Wound and Guilt

_"Barty!"_

_"I'm fine, I'm fine."_

_There was red seeping through Barty's shirt. He was clutching at his side, pale faced and lips thin. His hands were shaking a little. No, this was bad. This was very bad. Peter blasted several Grimm away. He wanted to be right at Barty's side but the Grimm were closing in fast._

_They needed to go._

_Peter knelt down and scooped Barty into a piggy- back. It was awkward, given how tall Barty was, but it would do. Peter charged forwards, blasting away any Grimm in their path._

"Peter, I'm fine." Barty murmured. He reached up and took hold of Peter's hand in his own.

Peter sighed, brushing green locks away from Barty's forehead. "I know. You're as tough as they come; you can handle anything." His voice was flat and despondant.

Barty smiled sadly. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Is there anything you need?" Peter asked. He was already making a move to stand but Barty pulled him back. Or tried to, at least. The movement pulled at his stitches and he hissed. Peter was immediately right by his side.

"Barty-"

"I don't need anything. Just you."

Peter sighed heavily but perched himself at the end of Barty's uncomfortable medical bed. The history teacher's aura had been broken in the fight and he was being kept in the infirmary until he recovered. It really was trying his patience.

Barty shuffled to the other side as much as he could and tugged at Peter. Eventually he understood and layed down alongside his partner, only to have his arms full of Barty.

"Peter," he started, "Please stop."

"Stop what?"

"Feeling guilty. I got hurt. It wasn't your fault."

Peter burried his face into Barty's hair. "It was. I should've protected you and I didn't."

Barty moved so he could face Peter. "It's not _your_ job to protect me. We protect each other," he clasped Peter's hands in his own. "Peter, we're Huntsmen. Getting hurt is part of what we do, you and I both know that. I made a mistake in battle- its not your fault. So stop feeling guilty."

Peter pressed a kiss to Barty's lips. "Alright. You're right, as always. I love you."

"I love you too." Barty mumbled drowsily. His still healing body tired easily and was ready for sleep.

Peter wrapped Barty in his arms and drifted into sleep alongside Barty.

Ozpin enterred the room a few hours later to check on his teachers and found them deeply asleep in each other's arms. He smiled quietly and left them alone.


	8. Fall

Gone.

Everything was gone.

Everything they had built, everything they had worked so hard for was gone.

The school was in ruins, grimm swarming the rubble and Atlas robots strewn everywhere. With a heavy heart Peter slumped in the corner of the airship with Barty in his lap. There were students everywhere, all retreated to their own little spaces to try and begin to process the horror they had experienced. It was the worst Peter had ever seen. Team RWBY was in shambles: Weiss was collapsed against the wall, Ruby was completely unconcious, a barely awake Blake was clinging to Yang's hand. The only one she had left. The other arm was gone. Team JNPR was no better: a battered and beaten Ren and Nora were huddled together and a devasted Jaune was a little way off. Pyrrha was dead. Ozpin was gone too.

Everything was gone.

Barty was shaking in Peter's arms. They wouldn't be this close with students around normally- but then normal was dead now. Peter needed Barty close, needed to know that, after all this pain and death, Barty was safe and alive. And Barty needed Peter.

Beacon had been a home for Barty. It had been Peter's too, but it wasn't like it was for Barty. Beacon was the first place that Barty felt safe, that he truly cared about. Peter still had somewhere to go- still had family, even if he wasn't close with them. It wasn't fair.

Everything was gone.

Vale was crippled. The streets were battered and torn. Where people had once clustered, Grimm now lurked. They just kept coming, drawn by the giant dragon frozen on the tower and the devastation settled deep in everyone's hearts.

Peter knew that the safe zone would have to become their new home. He practically carried Barty to one of the camp beds in the corner. Barty collapsed onto it, silently curling up into a protective ball.

Glynda followed behind, her gait an awkward stagger. Her aura was completely depleted and it was like she herself was drained away. She sat on another bed, her shoulders slumped and her eyes numb. No one spoke. Peter sat down on Barty's camp bed, pulling Barty into his lap and holding him close.

Everything was gone.


	9. Eating

Peter has known Barty for so long he can just look and _know _he hasn't eaten anything for a while. When Barty doesn't eat, he drinks even more coffee than normal, which only adds to the jittery trembles that assault his limbs. Peter always fears Barty will just... shatter if pushed too hard- he looks so fragile. It makes Peter's heart ache, seeing such a strong person so delicate. When he sees this, Peter makes it his mission to get Barty to eat again.

But he's learned that he can't go charging into the situation with brash battle plans and ostentatious ideals. It makes Barty feel threatened and always ends in confrontation; and makes Barty's eating habits even worse.

Instead, Peter has learned the way ahead is with subtle nudges and little reminders. He'l leave a muffin on Barty's desk, he'll put down a plate of biscuits whenever Barty stops in his office to chat. It let Barty come out of his shell at his own pace. Sometimes it took a little longer for Barty to get back into a regular eating pattern and Peter was right by his side. He'd hold Barty's shaking hands, let Barty tuck himself into his side for comfort.

Peter buttered a slice of thick baguette bread: one of Barty's favourite snacks. Barty's last class of the day finished soon and had agreed to meet Peter in his rooms. Peter was hoping the treat would tempt him to eat. So far, it had been about three days since Barty had last eaten a proper meal and had been surviving on plain biscuits from Peter's stash and the one blueberry muffin Peter had managed to convince him to eat.

While it definitely wasn't the longest Barty had fasted for, Peter still wanted him to have something substantial as soon as possible.

Then the door swung open and Barty entered. Even from across the room, Peter could see how Barty's limbs juddered and shook and how the green haired huntsman needed to steady himself against furniture and walls to make his way to Peter. As soon as Barty was close enough, Peter put an arm around his shoulders to support him.

"How was your day, Barty?" Peter asked as he picked up the plate of bread and lead Barty over to his plush sofa.

Barty shrugged and burrowed into Peter's side. "Fine, fine, nothing special."

Peter plucked his half of baguette up and pushed the plate towards Barty's knee. Barty hesitated, swallowing cautiously, before picking up his piece and nibbling the corner. And some more. And some more.

Peter gave an internal victory dance as Barty munched his way through the bread. Outwardly he didn't react at all: knowing better than to call attention to it. He just gave Barty's arm a gentle stroke as Barty nuzzled against Peter's chest.

"I love you." Barty murmured softly.

Peter smiled, kissing the top of Barty's head.

"I love you too."


	10. Friends

Barty had barely mustered the strength to send a scroll message to Glynda and Ozpin that he wouldn't be able to teach that day. His head was pounding and he felt like he was swimming in thick fog. The sheets were sticking to his clammy skin and his strength was sapped from just sending a text message. The groan that emerged from his throat was hoarse and scratchy, and completely unfamilliar to him. Rolling over and burrowing into the covers as chills assualted his limbs, Barty choked on a cough.

Where was Peter when Barty needed him? Why, why, why had Peter had to take on a mission when Barty came down with this? Barty hated being ill without Peter to help him cope. Especially when it was this bad. Peter always made him feel better, no matter how terrible Barty was feeling. But now Barty felt like death warmed over and Peter wasn't here.

Completely unbiddedn, tears sprung in Barty's eyes. Small whimpers escaped his stinging throat as he curled up in a tight ball clutching Peter's pillow tightly.

Barty was stirred from his fitful sleep some time later by something rolling him onto his back. There was a cool hand on his face, pushing hair from his eyes and then settling on his forehead. The touch was blessedly cool and Barty leaned into it, despite himself. A blurred shadow loomed above him, but Barty couldn't make it out without his glasses. The shadow was speaking in low soothing tones: Barty couldn't understand the words, but knew that he was safe. Something poked its way into his mouth; something cold and hard. Barty moaned but the figure didn't let him spit it out. There was- was there- a beeping sound? Or was Barty so ill he was hallucinating? He had no idea and was too drained to care. The good thing was the thing in his mouth was taken away.

Then Barty was sat up and he groaned loudly. His head swam at the change in position and he shuddered at the sudden cold. The figure said something and then Barty's head was being tilted back and a glass was pressed against his lips. The water was cold and soothing on his throat and Barty eagerly gulped it down.

Then the glass was taken away. Barty whined but the water didn't come back. The blurry figure said something Barty didn't understand. Then Barty was lying down again, with the covers tucked around him. Immediately, he curled up and bundled under the warm blanket. His eyes fell shut and he fell asleep.

When he woke again, he could barely get a coherent thought out. He whimpered dazedly and writhed uncomfortably. The sheets and covers were sticking to his sweaty skin. The figure appeared back in his line of sight. It shushed him softly and stroked his matted hair. Barty slipped back into oblivion.

He woke up frequently; too uncomfortable to get any proper sleep. He could hear voices talking above him. One of them was the one who had been there before but the second was new. Barty groaned at them and they quieted, letting Barty sleep again. Before Barty drifted off, he felt something cold and soothing on his forehead and he huffed contentedly.

When Barty next woke, his head was clearer and he fumbled for his glasses. Someone took them out of his reach and slotted them onto his face. Barty blinked the bleariness from his eyes. He startled as the face before him came into focus.

"Oz- Ozpin?" he croaked painfully.

Ozpin smiled softly. "Hello, Barty. It's good to see you awake."

Another voice came from across the room. "I can see why Peter worries about you so much."

"Gly- Glynda?"

Just the short name sent Barty into a hacking coughing fit. Ozpin propped him up, resting a warm hand on his back.

"Easy, easy."

Barty wheezed, collapsing against the pillows. Glynda sat him upright and coaxed him into drinking from the glass she held to his lips. Once he'd had enough, Barty slumped back dazedly against the pillows.

"What're you doing here?" he asked.

Glynda and Ozpin exchanged glances. "We didn't think it was best to leave you on your own."

Barty blinked in confusion before the realisation dawned on him. "Have you been here all day?"

"Well, Glynda hasn't," Ozpin replied, "But I have. It's a good thing to. You were very ill."

Barty rubbed awkwardly at his neck. "I- I'm fine."

Glynda raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? This is the first time you've been conscious all day. If we hadn't been here taking care of you, you would've been much worse."

"Oh. Well, thank you."

Ozpin set a hand on Barty's shoulder. "It's nothing. Just rest."

"When was the last time you ate something?" Glynda asked.

Barty shrugged. "Yesterday, probably."

Glynda sighed and walked out of the room. Barty just let his eyes fall closed. But Ozpin poked him and said, "You need to stay awake for now."

Glynda came back into the room with a steaming bowl on a tray, which she placed on Barty's lap. "Eat that and then you can sleep."

Barty looked down at it. "You... you made me soup?"

"Yes," Glynda replied, "Now eat."

Barty's hand was shaking with weakness but he managed to lift the spoon to his mouth. The soup was warm and soothing on his throat. It settled easily in his stomach. He smiled. "I never knew you were such a good cook."

Glynda gave him a warning glare, but Barty was sure that the look was softer than normal.

"I can make your life a living hell." she said sternly.

"Of course." Barty replied, taking another spoonful of soup. As his stomach got fuller, he found himself getting tired again. He let the spoon fall back into the bowl and his eyes slipped closed. Glynda picked the tray up and floated Barty's glasses back onto the bed side table, while Ozpin got Barty settled and tucked the covers in around him.

"Rest well, Barty."


	11. Cold

Barty announced his entry into Peter's rooms- or the rooms that were assigned to Peter which they shared- by sneezing loudly. He grumbled and sniffled into his sleeve. Peter's head poked out from the kitchen, smiling jovially. "There you are, Barty. I was wondering where you'd got to."

"Sorry, a student needed help." Barty replied, sniffing again.

"No need to apologise, Barty." Peter replied. He stepped out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs in hand, which he set on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa. He patted the cushion next to him to invite Barty over. Obediently trotting over, Barty joined Peter and sneezed again.

Peter burst out laughing.

Barty cast him a petulant scowl.

"Oh, Barty," Peter guffawed, "I'm sorry, but your sneezes are adorable!"

"Well, at least I don't sound like a foghorn." Barty pouted. Peter just snorted with more laughter. It was true; Peter's sneezes were very loud, while Barty's were quiet squeaks. Barty scowled into his coffee and Peter kept laughing. Eventually, Peter gasped for breath as his laughs faded.

"I don't like you anymore." Barty sulked nasally. Damn, he was getting congested.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Peter wheezed, "But rumours have been going around all day that you're coming down with a cold."

Barty raised an eyebrow and took another sip of coffee. "I _do not _have a cold, Peter. And is the gossip mill so dried up that my health is all that anyone can talk about?"

And then he promptly sneezed.

Peter rolled his eyes at Barty's dramatics. "How can anyone ignore that sweet little sneeze of yours." He said as he booped Barty's reddish nose.

Barty pushed Peter away, and sneezed in quick succession into his elbow; his whole body jerking with the fit. He bit back a groan as he slowly raised his head. Peter just handed him a tissue: an amused twinkle in his eye.

"I think you might have a cold, Barty." Peter said.

Barty glared as he wiped his nose with the tissue. "I'm fine."

"Of course you are." Peter replied as he pulled Barty in close. Barty pouted but made himself comfortable all the same. He rubbed at his temples; trying to stave off the headache he could feel brewing. Peter pressed his fingers beside Barty's.

"You feel a little warm and you look a little peaky." he remarked.

"_Peter_," Barty grumbled, "I'm fine."

"If you say so." Peter returned cheerfully.

Barty groaned and sniffled against the unrelenting pressure in his sinuses. Peter just ran his hand through Barty's messy green locks. Barty knew Peter was just humouring him, but he was still in denial about his hypothetical cold. Even when he let out the squeakiest, highest pitched sneeze ever imaginable.

He felt Peter stifle a laugh under him and stared up at Peter with watery, red rimmed eyes. In a muffled, thoroughly congested voice said, "Maybe I do have a cold."

Peter smiled, warmth pooling in his eyes. "Maybe you do." He said as he kissed Barty's head and wrapped the throw blanket around Barty's thin shoulders. "Now sit tight, while I make you some tea."


	12. Scars

Barty watched the last of his class file out of the room before turning to rub off the black board. He wasn't expecting to hear soft, nearly inaudible footsteps approaching him, nor the quiet voice that spoke up. "Professor?"

"Doctor." Barty corrected automatically, turning to face the speaker, catching sight of long black hair. "What can I do for you, Miss Belladonna?"

Blake ducked her head in an uncharacteristically shy manner. "I was just wondering... why you cared so much about Fauna's rights."

Barty raised an eyebrow. "Is that a complaint?"

Blake startled, eyes going wide. "No! It's just that you're the only teacher I've met who thinks it's really important."

"I can assure you, Miss Belladonna, equality for all is one of Beacon's utmost priorities."

"I know that but... I guess it's weird to see a human so involved in faunas rights." Blake said shyly.

Barty hummed in soft contemplation. "Miss Belladonna... what makes you think I am human?"

Blake stuttered, her bow twitching on her head. "Are- are you?"

Barty just smiled gently and clasped his hands together, looking at Blake over the rims of his glasses. He said nothing. But Blake understood exactly what he meant.

"You're a faunas?"

"I am. Or, a the very least- I was."

"I- I don't understand."

Barty sucked in a sharp breath, pushing down the echoing screams and phatom pains from decades past that rose up from the back of his mind. With slow, shaking hands, he undid his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up. Blake let out a tiny, uncontrollable gasp as her eyes roved the jagged, vivid scars marring his pale skin.

"When I was 8 years old, I was captured and- and my feathers were- they were ripped out."

Horror welled in Blake's bright eyes. "I'm- I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Barty mumured, "It wasn't your fault and it was a long time ago. So, believe me when I say I understand your pain and your drive."

"Did you ever think about joining the White Fang?" Blake asked.

Barty shook his head. "It wasn't started until much later in my life, and I did go to several of their protests, but honestly, I wasn't even sure I _was_ a faunas after... By the time the White Fang started turning violent, I had already dedicated myself to Beacon."

"I see." Blake said, casting her eyes to the ground; shame written over her face at her own mistakes.

"Blake," Barty said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, "You left. You knew enough was enough and you got yourself out. That isn't something everyone has the strength to do."

Blake nodded doubtfully, searching his eyes for sincerity. She found it easily, his eyes open and honest. "Thank you, Professor."

"Doctor." Barty chided gently. "Now, run along. Your team mates must be wondering where you are."

Blake nodded and walked silently towards the door. "See you next lesson, Doctor Oobleck."

She disappeared from the classroom, but another figure took her place, striding down towards Barty.

"Hello, Peter." Barty sighed. A fond smile was already quirking his lip up just from seeing the other man.

"There you are, Barty," Peter greeted, leaning up to press a kiss to Barty's cheek. "How are you feeling?"

Brty let out a long breath that he hadn't realised he was holding. "I- I'm alright. I think- I think that helped."

"Good," Peter smiled, "That's good- marvellous, even. Now, why don't we go out to lunch?"

"That sounds perfect."


End file.
